


Hard Landing

by bees_stories



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Series 2, Rough Sex, cotton candy bingo, pain play, prompt: dark, storm sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been a milk run – deliver a cargo of supplies to a mining camp and then home again the next morning. But a fierce storm has brought their ship down, and now Jack and Ianto need to find a way to keep themselves busy until help arrives.</p>
<p>One of Jack and Ianto's post-Torchwood adventures in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Landing

***

"Milk run, my arse."

Ianto glanced at the rain lashing against the windscreen of the wrecked supply transport and sighed as he fought to unclasp the restraints that held Jack's body fast to the pilot's seat. Wrenching on the buckles did no good, they were well and truly stuck. Even though none of the indicators on the console signalled imminent danger, he was eager to be shot of the ship before anything else could go wrong. He pulled his knife out of his boot sheath and used it to cut the harness instead. 

"Come on, Jack. No time to lie about." 

Dragging the body out of the cockpit and through the tiny auxiliary crew compartment wasn't easy, but with some rather undignified tugging and prodding, he made his way through to the main hold. "At least I don't have to fight my way through that lot," Ianto grumbled as he glanced at the heavy boxes of supplies still held fast by a web of netting. His knees protested and his back complained as he hauled Jack over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and took a tentative step. "You're putting on weight," he huffed at Jack, knowing if he were alive to hear, the charged would be whole-heartedly denied. Deploying the ramp with a soft punch to the control button vented a little bit of his anxiety, and as the door creaked open, Ianto used the opportunity to catch his breath. 

Rain slapped his face as he staggered down the gangplank. The area around them was relatively bare, save for a pond, which could just as easily be called a watering hole. Beyond the water's edge, dense jungle growth beckoned, offering at least some protection from rainfall that was nearly as bruising as the crash had been. 

Mud sucked wetly underfoot as Ianto made the journey. He was forced to concentrate on lifting his feet and setting them down again, so as not to wrench his ankles or lose his boots entirely to the muck. By the time he reached the tree line, his legs shook from fatigue, and he was well and truly exhausted. He let Jack's corpse slip off of his back, and collapsed against it as he sucked air rich with the scent of vegetation into his lungs, and visualised his next move. 

He needed emergency supplies. That meant a return trip to the sparking and smoking wreck. No time to hunt about. The ship could go at any time if the fire suppression system failed. The travel bags they habitually carried on overnight runs were in a locker in the cabin behind the cockpit. The emergency gear: transmitter, food and water, first aid box and the rest, was stored in a waterproof bag in a locker built into the bulkhead. He should probably get their personal gear first, and then the rest on the way out. 

Feeling not the least bit rested, Ianto brushed the damp fringe off of Jack's forehead before clambering wearily to his feet. "I'll just be a minute."

The rain was no less relentless on the return journey. It hammered against his body as hard as hailstones, and this time he hadn't the protection of Jack's corpse to keep it off his back. As he grew nearer to the ship, he pushed a hand over his face in a futile effort to clear his vision, and peered through the gloom.

Sparks danced over the freighter’s hull. It seemed only the heavy rain was keeping it from going up completely. With a determined intake of breath, and one more cautious glance at the aft section where the cargo was stored, he made his way up the gangplank, stomping mud from his boots as he climbed the ramp. Once inside, he headed straight for the e-supply locker. The latch stuck. Ianto resolved that if for some reason the ship was repaired rather than scrapped and put back into service, he would personally lubricate every latch, lock, and fastener on board. A second, more determined, wrench opened the hatch door and he dropped the bag on the deck as he realised he hadn't followed his action plan. He retrieved their kit bags, slung the bulkier e-bag over his back, and then shouldered the rest. It was an ungainly burden, but there was no way he was making a third perilous journey through the mud and rain. 

Ianto found Jack as he'd left him. His face was slack and peaceful in death. Oddly, that seemed a small comfort as he pulled the corpse into his arms and allowed himself a few moments of rest.

***

"Ianto?"

He threw an arm over his face, hoping whoever was prodding his shoulder would take the hint and go away. They didn't. He was poked again, more sharply this time, and the voice became more insistent. Also annoying.

"Hey, come on, Pookie, it's time to wake up." 

"Don't call me, Pookie," Ianto muttered back. "Never Pookie."

He knew that voice. Well. And its owner knew his views on the subject of pet names like Pookie.

"Punkin? Sweetie bear? Snookums?" Jack suggested from faraway. 

Groggily, and with great reluctance, Ianto opened his eyes. "Why are you tormenting me?" 

"Because I love you," Jack replied in a voice much too bright for Ianto's dour frame of mind. 

"You have an odd way of showing it," he grumbled. He still felt a long way off. Cold had seeped into his bones. He craved coffee, but it wasn't indigenous to the planet. 

Jack made a face of mock-hurt, but there was real concern in his eyes. "I had to do something to get your attention. You were really out for the count. I was starting to get worried." 

Ianto sighed. He'd been sleeping the sleep of the dead, and that was a much preferable alternative to his current reality where the icy rain was a type of water torture, and mud was a ravening beast that tried to suck its victims under its dark and fearsome depths. "You try shifting your dead weight plus our gear through a field of muck during a bucketing rainstorm after surviving a hard landing. See how chipper you feel." He didn't bother to conceal his irritation at Jack or the situation at large. He was miserable, and he didn't care who knew it. 

"The operative word being 'surviving'," Jack replied pointedly. "Other than cranky and in need of dry clothes and hot food, how are you?"

Ianto sat up and rubbed grit from his eyes. He was bruised and battered from first being thrown against his safety harness and then twice beaten by the heavy rain. His muscles were fatigued out from slogging through the mud, but there seemed to be no serious injuries. His head didn't hurt. His vision wasn't doubling. There were no sharp pains to indicate broken bones when he gingerly tested his arms and legs or poked at his ribs. "Fine. You?"

Jack shrugged. "You know." 

"Yeah," Ianto replied. A sudden attack of contrition softened his words. Jack had revived alone to find him out cold. He must have been worried sick. "I'm sorry I wasn't awake when you came back." 

"Not your fault." 

The rain hadn't diminished whilst Ianto was unconscious, but the heavy foliage lessened its effects. Water dripped steadily down on them through the leaves.

"I take it from all the survival gear the ship was wrecked," Jack said in the same, flat tone. 

Ianto shook his head. "Only a precaution. We came down hard and we're hauling volatile cargo. I didn't want to risk it exploding with us inside."

"But the ship is level?" Jack asked. He frowned as if he was perplexed when Ianto nodded. "Huh. Looks like we got lucky. I remember coming down on our nose, but the old girl must have teetered back onto her heels. Not my finest landing." He glanced at Ianto significantly. "Although any one you walk away from is a win in my book."

There didn't seem to be much to say to that. When it seemed inevitable they would crash, brought down by a lightening strike from a storm that had come out of nowhere, Jack had ordered him out of the cockpit and into the slightly more protected auxiliary crew compartment. They'd argued, briefly, and Jack had made it an order. Now he regretted questioning Jack's authority. He was a much more experienced aviator than Ianto would ever be, and he'd obviously correctly predicted the effects of his piloting. 

Jack got to his feet. "We should check the status of the ship and then set up camp." 

Another slog through the pelting rain and mud didn't exactly raise his spirits, but the thought of a warm, dry bed did. Ianto inclined his head. "Come on, it's this way." 

Jack whistled when they reached the edge of the clearing. He stared at the driving rain for a long moment and then looked over at Ianto. "You went through that?"

Jack made it seem like a mighty accomplishment. Maybe it was. Ianto just knew he needed to be well clear of the sparking, sputtering wreckage in case it, or the cargo they carried – fuel and volatile chemicals used in the mining process – decided to go up in flames. "Twice. First with you, and then again with our supplies. Better safe than sorry." 

"Not knocking your instincts. But if it hasn't gone up by now, it probably isn't gonna."

The wreck did seem harmless. There were no more sparks jumping off its hull, and that only added to Ianto's irritations. "Warm and dry, you said, Jack." If he sounded harsh, it wasn't intentional, but he was freezing. His teeth were starting to chatter hard enough to make his jaw ache, and he was really tired of the feeling of his sodden clothes clinging to his skin. 

"Your choice." Jack was beginning to sound as frayed as Ianto felt. "We can stay in the tent or go back to the ship." 

Ianto ground his molars, wondering why Jack was putting this on him. A six inch long, multi-legged horror dropped from above, landed on his boot, and skittered away. He shivered as he wondered what else had crawled over him whilst he was out, and conceded at least the wreck would be vermin free. "Let's get our gear." 

They collected the bags of supplies – bags he'd already laboriously hauled across the clearing once – and stood on the edge of the tree line, watching the rain fall. It showed no sign of letting up. The pond had overrun its banks, adding the threat of flood to the list of dangers. If anything, the sky had grown even darker and more ominous. 

Finally, Ianto held up three fingers. "Ready. Steady." He drew a breath. "Go!" He grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him out into the driving rain, praying as lightening struck and turned the clearing from murky grey to blinding blue-white, that they wouldn't be hit as they jogged as fast as the sucking mud and their burdens would allow.

Lightening struck a dozen yards away, followed by a ground-shaking boom of thunder, ionising the air and spurring their progress. Ianto put his head down and ran like a host of devils were on his tail, his footfalls spraying mud and water, adding another layer of filth to his already sodden clothes. The dull sound of his boot hitting the gangplank was a welcome relief as the boom of thunder rang out again. 

He slammed his hand against the door release just as Jack bounded up the gangplank behind him. The door opened. Unable to control his momentum, Jack slammed against Ianto's back, propelling both of them inside. Ianto threw up his hands as he skidded against the deck plates, saving his face, but jarring his arms and shoulders painfully as he collided with the bulkhead and then collapsed against it. 

"Ianto!" 

There was going to be a new set of bruises to keep the ones he'd already collected company. He could already imagine the mottled patterns on his skin. "I'm fine." A puddle began to form where he sat, but he was too weary to do much of anything about it. Closing his eyes and leaning his head against the bulkhead took what was left of his energy.

"Uh huh." Jack began to undo the fastenings on his flightsuit. "Come on, Tiger. Let's get you dry and warm." 

It was easy to let Jack strip away the layers of clothing that clung to his skin. First his boots and socks. Then the jumpsuit. Finally the vest and shorts underneath. Naked, he was warmer than he'd been fully clothed. The blanket Jack wrapped around his shoulders made him feel positively toasty. 

"Just give me a second while I get my kit off." 

Ianto gave his partner a feeble smile. "Do you realise this is the first time you've said that to me in over a month?"

Jack tugged off his boot and frowned as he dropped it onto the deck. It seemed as if he was doing a mental calculation. "Damn, you're right. Either we've been hauling freight or stuck in the barracks since we signed on with Talix."

A pensive look crawled over Jack's face, and Ianto felt immediately guilty. A new planet had brought them new opportunities, but also new responsibilities. Housing was in short supply. Most of the pilots who flew for the freight carrier were single. The few billets available for couples had a waiting list. It was barracks life, with all of its inconveniences, or nothing. As a result, they'd fallen back into old habits, sharing clandestine hand jobs in the shower and behind the supply hut. "I guess this is our silver lining." 

"Silver … " Jack's pensive expression became thoughtful as he looked at their situation in a new light. They were together, relatively unscathed, and there was a long night ahead of them with no chance of rescue. He gave Ianto a lopsided smile. "You're probably right." He undressed quickly, dropping the rest of his clothing to the deck in a soggy pile, and then he reached for the emergency kit he'd abandoned and began to pull items out of the bulky bag. 

There was a tent that slept four and sleep sacks zipped into the sides and bottom of the e-bag. Jack dumped the emergency rations and medical kit onto the deck and carried the supplies he wanted aft, deeper into the cargo bay. Ianto watched for a moment and then wearily pushed off the bulkhead. There was still work to be done. 

He went forward into the cockpit. On the console, a green light burned steadily to show the cargo was safe and secure. Another tell-tale flashed amber, indicating that the automatic distress beacon was transmitting the freighter's location. But the miners waiting for their supplies, and their employers back at the depot, would want to know if they were undertaking a rescue or a salvage mission when the time came to follow the beacon to its source. Outside, the storm continued to rage, pelting the windscreen with the same bruising rain that had assailed him earlier. It wasn't much of a surprise when the only reply to his distress hail was static. 

Ianto's chronometer chimed. He glanced down at the display out of habit and saw that somewhere, beyond the storm, the sun was setting. It would be thirteen hours before dawn. Hopefully, when the new day broke, it would bring with it a clearing sky.

"Anything?" Jack asked. 

Ianto shook his head. "It was a long shot." 

"Even if you did get through, they wouldn't send a rescue party out in this weather. It's too risky." 

"Figured as much," Ianto replied wearily. "But I had to try." 

"You're always such a stickler for regulations." Jack put his arm around Ianto's shoulders as he guided him to their impromptu camp site, and that took a little of the sting out of the harshness of his words.

The tent had been rolled out over the deck and inverted. Jack had inflated the bottom pad and then opened up the sleep sacks and laid them out flat on top. The makeshift bed looked like a vast improvement over the hard, narrow bunks in the auxiliary crew cabin, and Ianto looked forward to crawling between the layers of sleep sacks. Jack stopped him. Ianto gave him a puzzled look in return. Despite his earlier observation that they'd little time for one another, he hadn't meant to suggest that they spend their unexpected layover getting down and dirty. He was sore and tired, and Jack, so recently revived from another death, needed time to recuperate. He had no expectation other than they might curl up together and then fall into an exhausted sleep for a few hours before attempting repairs on the ship.

Apparently, Jack had other ideas. Ianto was pulled into an embrace, and then into a kiss that was both passionate and demanding. He gasped, surprised by its intensity. Warmth suffused his body. All of the dull aches and pains from the abuse he'd sustained as a result of the crash and the violent weather faded as Jack pulled him down to their knees and then to rest against the makeshift bed. When the kiss ended he felt as if every cell in his body had been suffused with energy. 

"Better?" Jack asked.

He nodded. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Jack shrugged as he ran his palms slowly, and rather contemplatively, down Ianto's arms. "We have a long night ahead of us, right?" Ianto nodded. "And I got the impression that you were hoping we might use it for something other than refining your dice skills?" 

"I didn't mean to sound as if I was complaining." It had been guilt on his part, more than a criticism of Jack that had led to his earlier comment. Now he felt guiltier than ever. He should have been more proactive about seeking out better trysting places. They were paid reasonably well. Granted, most of their funds were earmarked towards the day when they would buy their own ship so they could take on lucrative contracts without some third party grabbing a piece of the take, but there was no reason why they couldn't splurge and spend a little of their earnings on nights to themselves. 

"I know," Jack said. "But I also know you when you get that look. You would have spent the next few hours pretending you weren't completely knackered just to make me feel good. And I could either pretend not to see you wince and grit your teeth in pain. Or, I could give you a pick me up so we could both enjoy ourselves." He began to demonstrate by kissing a path along Ianto's jawline and down his chest. "Seemed like a no-brainer to me." Jack nipped Ianto's nipple and then kissed it. He inhaled sharply, startled by the abrupt shift in technique, and Jack chuckled.

"See, that's what I want to hear. You liked that. That was a good hurt." He did it again, and Ianto fisted the blanket as he arched upward against Jack's mouth. "I want to be able to tease you like that. I want to make you beg me for more. I never want you to pull away when I'm trying to make you feel good." He shifted his hips and ran his erection teasingly over Ianto's groin and belly. 

"You bastard, you've made your point." Ianto was only momentarily piqued by the sound of Jack chuckling. The heady sensation of their erections brushing, and the intoxicating scent of Jack's pheromones that were beginning to perfume the cargo bay, carried away his ire. "Thank you." 

"You're very welcome." Jack went back to kissing a path over Ianto's ribcage. 

Ianto let his eyelids flutter shut as Jack raised a love bite against his hip. He sighed as Jack traced the mark with a fingertip and then soothed it with a kiss. 

The emergency lighting flickered and then died. For a second, Ianto's heart raced, and then he remembered that he'd not started the standby generator. Once they'd dropped below the level of the motion detector's sensors they'd become effectively invisible. In the darkness, Jack tensed and relaxed. His breath against Ianto's balls was warm and made him shiver in anticipation, but he still cried out in surprise when Jack slapped his cock.

"You're so hard," Jack whispered as he rubbed his cheek against Ianto's erection. He kissed the head and sucked it between his lips and then let it go again. "So ready for me." 

"You've no idea," Ianto moaned as he was slapped and then sucked again. The small pain seemed to increase his sensitivity by tenfold. "God, Jack, keep doing that." He tipped his head against the blanket and moaned, giving voice to his lust in a way that had been too long denied as Jack swallowed around his shaft. 

The mattress under his back shifted. Without warning, his legs were hoisted and flung over Jack's shoulders, and Jack was rubbing spit into his hole. Ianto moaned again as Jack replaced his fingers with his cock, nipped his ankle, and pushed in.

"Oh, that's good," Jack sighed, before pulling out and pushing in again. His first thrusts were unhurried, teasing things that seemed as much about building anticipation as giving either one of them any relief. Unbidden, and without permission, Ianto reached for his own erection and stroked it, matching the leisurely tempo as he ran his palm up over the head and down the shaft. 

As abruptly as they had faltered, the emergency lights came back on. Ianto blinked as his eyes compensated for the brightness. He looked upward in time to see Jack lower his arm. 

"I want to watch you." There was an unaccustomed roughness to Jack's voice that made Ianto take notice. "I want to see the play of your muscles under your skin and the way you bite your lip just before you beg me." He reached down and batted Ianto's hands away from his cock and then gave it a light slap. "Put your hands behind your head. Hold onto your wrists."

As he complied, Ianto had an epiphany. Jack had lost control over the events of the day, and now he needed to take at least a measure of it back. He was channelling his frustrations, his anger, all of his dark emotions, into sex. He took a breath, licked his lips, and then gave a small nod as he met Jack's stormy gaze. If Jack wanted a whipping boy then he'd have one. "Fuck me." 

The leisurely thrusting gave way to an arse pounding. Ianto grimaced as the first hard snap of Jack's hips drove his cock deep. He timed his breathing; inhales as Jack drew back, exhales as he rocked forward again, surrendering himself to Jack's daemons. 

If they'd been forced to stifle their cries during the last month's clandestine encounters, they felt no such prohibition now. Jack grunted with every thrust. Ianto answered with full-throated moans that echoed off the metal bulkheads. Pain and pleasure intertwined, becoming something different and undefinable. Ianto lost his grip on his wrists, and in defiance of Jack's orders, let his arms fall to his sides. He clutched at the blankets, his fingers crushing the filmy synthetic material, and bucked his hips upward, meeting each punishing thrust. 

Jack ground himself against Ianto's arse. Sweat made his body gleam under the pale yellow emergency lights. Abruptly, he pulled out. Ianto gasped at the loss, and then gasped again as Jack spilled hot over his belly. The spatter of come against his cock both excited and tormented him. "Please, Jack." He begged, knowing that Jack needed to dominate him; to give or withhold pleasure as he saw fit. 

Fortunately, Jack seemed to be in a giving mood. He crawled up onto the bed, came to rest at Ianto's side, and drew him into a kiss. "So good. So very, very good," he murmured against Ianto's mouth before reaching between their bodies. The punishment was over. Jack caressed him lovingly and then found his rhythm. Where he had been brutal before, he was tender now, plying soft kisses against Ianto's neck as he held him close and stroked with exactly the right degree of pressure. 

Jack was his grounding point. Ianto clung to him as he screwed his eyelids shut and every muscle in his body grew tense. His world shrank, becoming nothing more than him and Jack and the bed beneath them. As he caught his breath and looked up into Jack's eyes, he realised the tempest, at least the one within, had abated, and they had both weathered it successfully.

"Did I hurt you?" Jack asked. He sounded tentative, as if he was just starting to realise how aggressive he'd been. 

"Only the good kind," Ianto replied, echoing Jack's earlier words. They kissed again, drowsy brushes of their lips as they came down off the adrenaline-fuelled sex. He took Jack's earlobe in between his teeth and nipped.

"Minx," Jack groaned. But from his tone, it was obvious he was smiling. 

Something gnawed at the back of Ianto's mind. He finally worked out what it was. "They'll be missing us in Bellwether." 

Jack glanced upward. Even through the shielding, they could hear the storm still raged on. He considered for a moment, and then flipped the faceplate open on his wrist-strap, prodded a few buttons, and closed it up again. "There. I set a routine that will ping the transmitter at half hour intervals. When a signal gets through it'll let us know, and then we can fix a lift." 

Ianto captured Jack's wrist and ran his fingertips over the relic from his time agency days, wondering just what its limits were. "Clever." 

Jack shrugged and gave Ianto a wolfish smile. "Nah. I've just got better things to do than hang by the phone waiting for a line to clear."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Jack replied, just as the emergency lights went out again.

end


End file.
